Different POVs for the Hunger Games
by inspiremyworld95
Summary: Hey, all! This is my first Hunger Games fic!Here's what I thought it would be like from a bunch of different character's povs on a bunch of different scenes.Please read and review! Rated T because, well, i don't think little kids should read about death.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-Okay, I've been pondering to write this for a while. Wasn't sure how to start. Hmm…. Oh, I saw the movie! So awesome. For those of you who haven't seen it: read the book, then see the movie, or do it the opposite way. I don't care. As long as you read the book. Okay, on with the story!**

The Reaping – The Mayor's P.O.V.

The reaping was one of the things my daughter, Madge, and I hated most in our lives. The others were the Hunger Games and the Capital. _How dare they do this to us, _we would have late night conversations every year the night before the reaping. _Does President Snow even have a soul?_ He evidently did not.

And I stood helpless at the podium as the clock struck two, watching these poor children, two of whom, in a matter of minutes, would be sentenced to death. I searched the crowd, spotting Madge in a cluster of sixteen year olds. She kept her head down, looking at her shoes. She must have sensed me looking at her because when she looked up and met my gaze, her eyes had a flat look about them.

_Let's get this over with, _I thought with a sigh. And I continued on with reading the same speech about the history of Panem as I do every year.

I retreat to my seat when Haymitch Abernathy, District Twelve's only living victor, falls into his seat, bringing along with him a strong smell of liquor. I try to hide my scrunched up expression from the camera. Twelve was the laughing stock of Panem, and I knew it.

Effie Trinket steps up to the stage in a ridiculous pair of high heels, so high it looks like she's a trotting horse. "Happy Hunger Games!" she exclaims with a bright smile on her face. _What is _wrong _with her? _"And may the odds be e_ver _in your favor! Ladies first!" Effie goes over to the humungous glass bowls holding the slips where my daughter's name is in five times. Five times would not be likely enough to send her to the capital, but there is still the possibility that she may be picked. Effie returns to the podium and reads the name in a loud, clear voice. "Primrose Everdeen."

I let out the breathe I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. It wasn't Madge! But wait…

The crowd steps away so they make a thin path for a small blond girl to step through. She makes her way to the center and starts walking up the aisle toward the stage. "A twelve year old," I grumble, because this isn't fair, and though none of this is fair, a twelve year old has never stood any chance in the games.

Then the name settles in. Everdeen. Madge has spoken of her friend Katniss Everdeen on occasion at the dinner table. She was a quiet girl, much like Madge, also polite. She had a reputation as a huntress. Every week, she would bring in the game that supported most of the families of District Twelve to the Hob along with her friend Gale. She brings the strawberries to trade with Madge and me. I know her mother, who acts as doctor for the District, well because she was good friends with my wife, who barley left her room anymore because of her awful headaches. This girl, Primrose, is the youngest of the Everdeens. The second daughter.

I focus on the young blond as she approaches closer to the stage. To her death, some might say, or at least that's what I say. She reaches the first step, lifting her foot with a nervous shake, when a cry rips throughout the crowd. "Prim!" a girl shouts. "Prim!" she shouts again and runs through the path the children have quickly made for her. She reaches Primrose, who has stopped startled at the voice, and sweeps her behind her in a quick motion with her arm. "I volunteer!" she gasps. "I volunteer as tribute!"

_Well this is a change, _I think.

Those on stage with me murmur confusedly. The crowd breaks out into whispers itself. I'm not totally surprised, however. I knew this was Katniss Everdeen, the older sister of four years to Primrose. If course she would volunteer to keep her sister safe. Hasn't she kept her family safe and alive for years now by hunting? What surprises everyone it the fact that she is a volunteer. District Twelve hasn't had a volunteer in decades. Here, volunteer was a synonym with the word corpse. The same with tribute and deathbed.

Effie Trinket gushes something that I can't hear because I'm lost in memories. This girl brings the strawberries. She is one of Madge's only friends. I remember when her family was standing on the same stage we are debating at now, presenting her with a medal of valor because her father was killed in an explosion in the mines.

They are waiting for my approval at the change of events. "What does it matter?" I say my face twisting into a painful expression. Better Katniss then Primrose. Anyone with eyes can see that Katniss stands a chance in the arena, already having the skills she needs for survival. Primrose does not. Maybe a miracle would happen and Katniss would come home to us all. "What does it matter?" I repeat. "Let her come forward."

Her sister begins to protest. Crying and screaming hysterically, holding her sister around the legs, begging her not to go. Katniss puts a on a brave face and tries to deal with Primrose until another boy, who I presume to be Gale because of his appearances with Katniss, comes and pries Primrose from Katniss, carrying the screaming child back to her mother.

With this setback overcome, Katniss climbs the steps to the stage and tells Effie her name when she asks. Effie goes on about glory in the games, and I am thoroughly digusted. When Effie calls for applause for Katniss, no one claps. Instead, every member of District Twelve salutes Katniss with our own sign of goodbye. We all touch our three middle finger of our left hand to our lips and hold them out to her. She may not know it, but she has always been precious to us. She has always held a place in our hearts. She was what kept us going, her strength, her bravery, her ability to push herself forward in the toughest of times. She was half the age of many of us, but I knew she possessed the best of qualities our district needed to keep strong.

As I held out my hand to her, I silently wished her good bye and good luck. This year I would bet on Katniss, and I have never placed a bet on a tribute before. Not even on Haymitch.

Speaking of Haymitch, He stumbles over to Katniss and says something in his drunken state. Then he plummets of the stage and knocks himself unconscious.

Effie Trinket selects the boy tribute, Peeta Mellark , who I know as the baker's son, and then he and Katniss are taken into custody.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-Okay, guys, so here goes nothing! Chapter 2! P.S.-I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Tribute Parade – President Snow's P.O.V.

I'm sitting on my chair-throne, rather, as it's undeniably grand-watching the live shots on screen as the tributes make their way to my mansion. It's the same every year. First pulls out the chariot from District One, the Two, and so on until they reach Twelve.

_So, why does this feel different this year?_

I feel as if something big and unannounced will suddenly take over. I'm not sure what, and that disturbs me. The situation Panem is in right now is very difficult. One uncontained spark can light the whole country in flames. Getting a hunch after the reaping in District Twelve, I've tightened security and sent more Peacekeepers to the East.

Dsitrict Eleven's chariot pulls out sporting a young girl, twelve years old he's heard, and a huge young man he thinks is named Thresh. Followed by Eleven is District Twelve.

_The stylists this year really outdid themselves, _I think to myself as I watch them riding down the pathway set for them. But that's not all that I noticed. Were they _holding hands_? This was something else entirely. They were going to kill each other in a matter of days. What w_as_ this? I was utterly shocked.

I shook off the feeling as the chariots rounded themselves to a stop in front of my mansion. I would attend to this later. I stood up and turned on the microphone at the collar of my vest.

"Tributes," my voice came across loud and clearly for even the sponsors in the nose bleed section to hear without watching the televisions posted around them. "We welcome you to the Capital. We salute your bravery and sacrifice. We wish you the best stay in the capital of our thriving country, Panem. And may the odds," I paused taking in the faces of the twenty-four tributes looking up at the balcony where I stood watching over them, "be ever in your favor."

You could hear the cheering of the citizens as the tributes rode away to the Training Center where they would prepare for battle the next three days.

I stood staring, watching the flames of Katniss Everdeen from District Twelve as they trailed behind her, brightening the night.


	3. Authors Note

**A/N- Hi, everybody. Sorry this isn't a chapter. I know I get frustrated when I see these Authors Notes; and I hate writing them, too. I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm **_**not **_**abandoning the story. I've just been really busy lately, and I'm going on vacation for a good part of the remainder of July. I'll try to post what I can though. Don't worry, I'm working on it right now. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites and follows, though! It keeps me motivated! That's all I have to say for now. Thanks. **


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